First, Taradira put Vare’s dagger on her belt, next to her own. The patterns on the flat of the blade told the beginning of his story, but only that. Where he was from, and who his first family was. It did not say that he outlived all of them, and joined Taradira’s family after. It did not do justice to the difficulties of surviving, of trying to fit in, of forgiving himself and eventually finding a kind of happiness with the five of them.

She retrieved Filarane’s and Satherevas’ blades next. Taradira had no doubt that she was being searched for, but her pursuers were not expecting her to double back. They did not know the ways of the Hatharen people, just as the Hatharen people did not know the ways of the monsters. How many thousands of years had they fought without knowing these things? Neither side tried to learn about the other, tried to understand the ins and outs of their enemy. Why understand a beast?

Finally, there was Alarethas and Ceravas. How long had the fires burned, even with nothing to feed on? The blades survived even if the corpses didn’t. Taradira stood with six daggers on her waist, and looked to the east. A new kind of creature, never seen before, organized the beasts and killed her people. Yet Cera said there was only one. It was a dangerous new enemy, yet the solution that came to Taradira’s mind was the oldest one she knew.

Kill the monster.

Not alone, though. She ran, again, and found a new place to hide, a place to rest where they would not find her. She needed to get back to the stronghold, let everyone know, mobilize a larger force and defeat the creature.

Turning to look west, towards the mountains, she paused. Satherevas would have smiled at her, if he were still here. Said something to calm her down. She could almost see his face, if she closed her eyes. His smile, his lips. She regretted not kissing him even once on their current outing. She was also too focused on getting the job done, and never focusing enough on-

Taradira bit her tongue. The pain drove away the distraction, but almost immediately, it was back. She was now seeing him naked.

Fumbling, her pulled the vambrace off her left forearm, dropping it to the ground next to her. At some point she had ended up kneeling in the rocky terrain. That didn’t matter. Her head swam, ideas and visions floating through her mind, raw desire trying to overtake her senses. Her right hand scrambled at her belt, trying to find her dagger. It had to be hers, not one of the others. She needed it. She needed Satherevas. She had to fix herself, right now, or she would die. He needed to be here, holding her, wrapping his arms around her burying his face in her chest.

Pain cleared her mind. There was so much pain. Looking down, she saw her dagger passing entirely through her forearm. She wanted to scream, but held herself back. Control. She needed to stay in control.

Pulling the blade out, she dropped it, grabbing a small handful of pebbles. She shoved them into the hole in her arm. It burned. It burned away the thoughts. She focused on that sensation as she put her vambrace back on, tightening the cloth around the wound before securing the metal plates into place.

She would pay for it, both now and later. She could barely move the fingers on her left hand, and she would have to cut herself open and remove the stones from her arm later, to heal properly. But for now, she felt the pain. With every beat of her heart, the inside of her arm burned. Satherevas was gone. Dead. She did not think of him.

Kill the monster.

That was what she needed to do. Picking up her dagger, she returned it to her belt with the others. Then she gripped her curved sword and pushed herself to her feet. The monsters would expect her to run, wouldn’t they? Expect her to go back to the stronghold, to warn her people.

Taradira grinned, holding back a laugh.

The creature had the head of a bird.

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Its small eyes held intelligence, staring at Taradira without fear. It appraised her, the hooked tip of its long beak wavering from side to side as it considered its options.

She smiled at it. Two Cahire lay dead between her and the mastermind. The beast’s upper limbs were useless, half-formed between wings and arms, with only two fingers. They looked brittle and it held no weapons. Its lower legs, on the other hand, were thick and ended in long, taloned feet. She figured it might try to kick her.

Instead it made a noise, chattering at her. Did it beg for mercy, or curse her? She ran forward, and it scrambled backward, but not fast enough. Her sword flashed and she decapitated it.

It took her days, but Taradira slowly killed off the creature’s reserve guards, catching any messengers it sent out to the larger force that was searching for her further west. The situation it found itself in was reversed, where it was alone and isolated, unable to get help. Now it was dead.

Letting out a sigh, she unstrapped her vambrace again, cutting her arm open once more and using the tip of her dagger to dig the pebbles out of her flesh. More pain and more blood. After she finished and bound the wound again, Taradira picked up the beast’s head and started her walk back home.

Victory was hollow.

“This is the face of what killed my family.”

Taradira dropped the head of the beast - only slightly decayed, after her long trek back from the eastern beyond - onto the floor in front of Vilventhal’s council. The six of them all stared at it, only two making slightly disgusted faces. The others remained serious.

“A mastermind?”

“A general. A strategist. Not a good one, but better than what we were expecting. Better than anything recorded. Every stronghold needs to know. The beasts can trick us. They can think.” Taradira glared at them, one by one. She felt exhausted, but anger drove her forward.

“It’s dead. How do you know there are more?”

She did not respond to the question. She felt it didn’t need one. Silence filled the cavern. Vilventhal was a series of underground caves, entrances hidden. Taradira’s people relied heavily on farming the lands above for food, and were more aggressive in patrolling than other strongholds. Any threat had to be taken seriously.

“Very well, Taradira. You’ve shown your worth, once again. I’m sure we can find a new place for you. Any group would be more than happy to have someone of your history.”

Turning towards the speaker, her glare grew sharper. She held back the fury, just barely. “Do you know what I went through, out there? Hiding, alone, with my entire family dead? What happened to me?”

All six of them shook their heads. None even looked away from her.

“Strong emotion. That’s one of the triggers for the reproductive instinct. I was alone, days away from here, with dozens of the beasts in my path, and my body decided that was the perfect time to start thinking about breeding. Have you ever thought that there’s something wrong with how we are fighting? That we are…”

In the middle of speaking, her thoughts suddenly leaped ahead of her words. Even as she said the words, the pieces fell into place in her mind. “It is that way on purpose, isn’t it? We spend hundreds of years growing close to a small group, learning everything there is to know about each other, before we go out and fight. When we get ripped apart, the survivors have to live with the hurt. The pain. The loss. If two die the other four can come back and immediately jump each other to start making more.” She wanted to laugh. “Did you set this up, or…” The eldest family was staring at her, sadness on their faces. Guilt. Regret.

All six of them. Just like any other group of Hatharen.

The answer was obvious. “It's older than you.” They looked away from her. She did laugh, at that point. She wanted to cry, she wanted to attack them, but she knew it didn’t matter. These people were not her enemy. Her own people were not her enemy. Desperation was her enemy. Taradira laughed to hide the fear. “I won’t be staying here, to join another group.” She finally announced. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? To go where? To do what?”

“To learn how to fight a war properly. To be a leader. To learn how to win.” Ideas were already forming in her head, situations and reasons why it wouldn’t work. Not enough Hatharen, too much area to cover, the issue of supply lines, of multiple strongholds working together, the sheer numbers of the enemy, how far they might have to advance. Problem after problem arose in her mind.

“The human lands?” A voice called out. Taradira didn’t have to answer that question, either. Silence followed.

“We…will support you.” One of them said, “We will give you a role. Authority. An official reason to be in the human lands. All Hatharen traveling will be your responsibility. Will you accept this position?”

Taradira nodded. Her hand fell to the five extra daggers still on her belt. The remains of her family. “I will do what I need to do.”